


The Anthemic

by Spikedluv



Category: American Idol RPF, David Cook (Musician)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-05-30
Updated: 2012-05-30
Packaged: 2017-11-06 08:18:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/416715
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spikedluv/pseuds/Spikedluv
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>David Cook has been searching for the Stone for as many years as he can remember; what he finds is the Idol, David Archuleta.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Anthemic

**Author's Note:**

> Written for ai-snapshots using the prompt: Life on the Moon.
> 
> Written: May 23, 2012

David Cook heard the commotion over the comms his boarding team had left open when they’d entered the automated vessel. They hadn’t expected any resistance, since the ship was supposed to be unmanned, but Cook liked to be careful. Even so, he hated staying behind on The Anthemic while his team checked this lead out.

Cook reached past Brooke and punched a button on the console. “Andy, report!”

Andrew Skib, Cook’s first officer, led the boarding party. His voice sounded tinny and hollow over the comms. “I think you need to see this, Captain.”

They’d known each other since their days at university, and Andy only called Cook ‘Captain’ when things were serious and the shit was hitting the fan. “Did you find it?” Cook asked as he immediately headed off the bridge.

“Not exactly,” Andy said.

Cook wouldn’t know what was going on until he got to the other ship, but he wanted to be prepared to get out of there quickly if they needed to. He whirled his finger at Brooke White, his navigator, indicating that she should make sure they were ready to take off as soon as everyone was back on board. Brooke nodded her understanding and her fingers moved confidently over the console.

Cook hurried through The Anthemic to the airlock where they’d docked with the garbage scow. He touched his hip reflexively, making sure that his weapon was in its holster before he left his ship. Cook stepped onto the foreign ship and followed Andy’s directions until he saw Michael Johns leaning against the bulkhead, dabbing at the blood oozing from a cut on his lip and casting glares through the open doorway in front of him.

Johns seemed unhurt otherwise, so Cook barely spared him a glance before he stepped into the room where Andy and Monty had their weapons out and pointed at a woman and a boy. The woman was also armed. She had taken a protective stance in front of the boy (young man, Cook amended when he got a better look at him), and had her own weapon aimed steadily at Andy and Monty. A stand-off, then. Awesome.

“What’s going on?” Cook asked his first officer, ignoring the other two for the moment. “I thought this ship was supposed to be unmanned.”

“It was,” Andy agreed affably. “It seems they’re passengers.”

Passengers on a garbage scow? Stowaways, perhaps? Cook took a moment to study the two, concentrating on the boy, since he appeared to be the more important of the two, given that he had a personal bodyguard. (Her stance was too professional not to have come without some training.) Which made their stowing away on an unmanned garbage scow even more unusual.

The young man lowered his eyes and ducked his head against Cook’s scrutiny, almost as if he didn’t want Cook to recognize him, and suddenly it clicked. This wasn’t just any stowaway. Thrice damn the Universe! Cook thought. This was the Idol! Despite his shock, Cook managed to ask coolly, “What’s the Idol doing stowed away on a garbage scow?”

Neither Andy nor Monty showed any surprise, so they must have figured it out for themselves already. The Idol’s personal bodyguard, however, tensed even more and looked fully prepared to take on each and every one of them if she had to in order to protect her charge.

“Relax,” Cook told her. “We’re not going to hurt him.”

“That _fleck_ ,” she spat the word in Johns’ direction, “already has.”

Only then did Cook notice the bruise forming on the Idol’s cheek. “Johns,” he said carefully, unable to look away from olive skin that took on a dusky hue under Cook’s inspection. “You struck the Idol?”

“I didn’t know he was the bloody Idol!” Johns said, then added petulantly, “Besides, he hit me first.”

Cook glanced down at the Idol’s hand, which he kept clenching into a fist at his side, and unclenching again. The knuckles were scraped where he’d cut the skin on Johns’ teeth. Cook had to bite back a smile at the idea of the young Idol punching Johns in the face. He sighed. “Put your weapons down,” he told his men.

Andy gave him a raised eyebrow, but otherwise they both complied without comment.

“You, too,” Cook told the bodyguard.

She just snorted and kept her weapon trained on them. Cook rolled his eyes and thought he saw a mirroring sentiment in the Idol’s eyes.

“The Stone?” Cook asked Andy.

“No,” Andy said regretfully. “We searched the entire ship.”

“He said it would be here,” Cook said, unable to believe that they’d come all this way for nothing. The Stone was the key to everything and he’d been searching for it for years now.

“Yeah,” Andy said in a tone that told Cook just how much Seacrest would be paying for passing them bad information. Once they found him.

“Except the garbage,” Monty reminded them. “We could dump and scan,” he suggested. “Might’ve hidden it in there.”

Before Cook could consider it Brooke’s voice came over their comms. “Incoming ship. Two minutes out.”

“Who it is?”

No one had any reason to be out there, in this uninhabited area of Sector 13. The only thing there right now was the automated, normally unmanned garbage scow they’d intercepted, which had no value to anyone except Cook, and only then because of what he’d thought it carried.

“They’re blocking the signal,” Brooke said.

“Back to the ship,” Cook ordered. “Devin, get the cloak up. Brooke, be ready to move us out.”

“Cloak engaged,” Devin replied.

“Engines hot,” Brooke told him.

His men had already turned to leave, but the guard looked as if she didn’t know which way to turn. “You coming?”

She looked like she wanted to say no, but the Idol touched her arm. “We can’t stay here anymore.”

She swore softly, then pushed the Idol ahead of her out of the room and down the hallway. Cook took up the rear. He was out of breath from the sprint when he reached his ship. “Close it!” he called as he threw himself through the hatch.

Even as Cook said the words Andy pulled the lever to close them in. It seemed to take forever, but finally the hatch sealed shut with a hiss.

“Disengage!” Cook ordered Brooke. He heard the clamps release and felt the ship shudder as it pulled away.

“Are we still cloaked?” Cook asked as he headed for the bridge.

“Cloak’s holding up,” Devin assured him.

“Where’s that ship?”

“Coming out of warp now,” Brooke replied crisply.

Her words were punctuated by an explosion that sent The Anthemic (and her occupants) tumbling.

“Status!” Cook yelled as he regained his feet. “Brooke!”

Cook grasped the Idol’s elbow and helped him to his feet. His soft thank you could barely be heard over the alarms that had gone off. “Turn off that damned alarm.”

The sudden silence was broken by Brooke’s report. “Starboard engine was damaged. It’s at half-capacity. We can’t warp out.”

“Cloak?”

“Still up,” Devin sighed, relieved.

“Where’s the other ship now?” Cook asked.

“It’s scanning the area . . . .”

“Engines off!” Cook commanded. They couldn’t take the chance that the other ship might spot any emissions from their engines, especially the damaged one.

“Engines off,” Brooke said as Cook exploded onto the bridge, stopping short when he saw the debris floating in space. Debris that had once been a ship upon which they’d been standing just a few minutes before. His eyes moved to the other ship, which had pulled back, but hovered there as if waiting for them to show themselves.

“Andy, get me all the information you can on that ship. Monty, go help Devin with the engine.”

Andy slid into his seat at the console without a word and began tapping keys. Monty nodded at Cook’s order and headed towards the engine room. The rest of them waited, watching the screen until the other ship finally ended the search. It pulled away and then warped off, but Cook couldn’t breathe a sigh of relief, not yet.

When Ryan Seacrest had told Cook that he had a line on the Stone, Cook had thought it was too good to be true. And it had been. Instead of the Stone, he’d found a stowaway Idol, and they’d both nearly been blown up. Who had been the target? Who might have known that either of them would be there, in that particular spot? Only one person knew that The Anthemic would be there.

Cook glanced at the Idol, who had gone pale as he stared at the debris field. The boy suddenly looked much younger than his seventeen years. The Idol had gone into hiding with a single guard, which meant that he could very well have been the target. But if Cook wasn’t the target, he’d been the scapegoat. Seacrest had set them up.

“Johns, find out where Seacrest is. I think we need to have a little chat with him.”

Cook turned his attention back to the other two, one staring at him in distrust even though he’d just saved their lives, the other paying him no attention at all.

Cook took a step towards them and drew the Idol’s attention. His eyes were big and round, and Cook thought he could get lost in them. “David Cook,” he said. “Captain of this fine vessel. Welcome aboard The Anthemic.”

“Not like we had any choice,” the woman said. “Since you drew them right to us.”

“Carly.” The Idol spoke her name softly and she subsided, though Cook could see that she had much more to say. “I’m David Archuleta,” the Idol said. “And this is my bodyguard, Carly Smithson.”

Cook held his hand out. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

The Idol stared at Cook’s hand as if he didn’t know what to do with it, and then he slid his smaller hand into it. “You, too,” he said, and once again Cook got to enjoy the lovely flush that crept up the Idol’s, David Archuleta’s, neck.

“We had no idea you were on that ship,” Cook said. “It wasn’t our intention to lead anyone to you.” For some reason he really wanted David Archuleta to believe him.

“I do,” Archuleta said.

Cook nodded, trying to hide his own embarrassed flush at realizing that he’d spoken that last bit out loud.

“Well,” Cook said, releasing Archuleta’s hand. “It looks like we’re stuck with each other for a little while.” At least until they could figure out who had tried to kill the Idol and set up The Anthemic to take the blame.

Cook tried not to examine too carefully how much he didn’t hate the idea.

The End


End file.
